


Ramblings of a - deeply - confused witch

by Lemondropshots



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Horny Teenagers, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, because horny teens, but he's still annoying, but not really, flowery language, serious confusion, somewhat subtle attraction, teddy is ridiculously hot, victoire loves teddy, victoire wants to take his clothes off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemondropshots/pseuds/Lemondropshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or rather Victoire Weasley’s moments of appreciation of the fine specimen that is Teddy Lupin. While simultaneously grappling with the fact that he still calls her cousin, and is perhaps the most annoying human being known to mankind.<br/>(but also the most perfect)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ramblings of a - deeply - confused witch

**Author's Note:**

> I should be revising.  
> Enough said.
> 
> Enjoy lovelies :)

She was looking at him again.

There he stood leaning against the kitchen bar, nursing the pathetically washed glass in his hand, which held some sort of vile tasting alcoholic drink. Undiluted she presumed, unable to stop the sneer from spreading across her face. She kept her eyes on him as he brought the glass bottle to his lips, latching on to the rim of the opening, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped down the acidic substance. Show-off. He was nothing but a show-off. Bringing his hands back down and placing the cup back on the counter with a soft thud, he turned to her, with one eyebrow arched almost as if to say your turn. She simply scowled back, in response to his raised eyebrows as he took his thumb and slowly brushed it across his lower lip, wiping the stray drops there.

And she was still staring at him.

She would not give in. She was firm in her beliefs that alcohol was a disgusting concoction formed purely for the sake of fools who were unsatisfied with the mundane reality that had been thrust upon them. And yet here was someone who was drinking that very poison as if it were essential to his very being. And he called it having “fun”. Admittedly she’d only had one previous experience with alcohol but it had been enough to convince her that it was unnecessary and wholly disgusting.

It was as though the room had suddenly turned fifty degrees hotter. Her thin top did nothing shelter her from the rapidly settling sheen of sweat that gave her body a slight glow (perhaps that was a permanent characteristic as a result of her Veela blood). With a delightful internal cheer she noticed that her companion was in the same state, unlike her though where she reckoned she stood with platinum blonde strands strewn all over and matted down to her skin, his hair seemed to remain as carelessly ruffled as ever, keeping the consistent just-rolled-out of-bed look, retaining its lustrous sheen. Electric blue locks - as of the time being - reflecting the dull halogen lights of the kitchen. He still looked like a messy art piece that belonged centrefold of a bustling gallery. (She wanted to run her hands through his hair and tug his head and bring it to her face so she could-) It was unfair.

He was unfair.

Unfairness practically oozed from his pores. From all his sharp corners and frayed edges which weren’t actually that frayed at all, but rather so perfect; supremely perfect. Everything about him was so unbelievably perfect it was ridiculous.

The piercings adorning each of his ears - three on each one - and his bottom lip. (One that she wanted to nibble on at the risk of sounding like a parasite)

The tattoo peeked up from underneath his shirt collar, which she knew from spending summers with him at the beach with their multitude of cousins and having a glorious view of his bare upper body, spanned across his whole back. (A back that she wanted to lick). Also the shrill screams from her Aunt Ginny from two years ago when she’d found out what he’d done still resonated in her ears. Truly that woman did indeed have a spectacular pair of vocal chords. (She wondered if he was very vocal too? She’d be more than willing to find out)

His long legs stretched out in a pair of muggle jeans, lean, just like the rest of his body from all those years playing on the Quidditch pitch. A true Seeker’s build. (One that she waned to wrap herself around 24/7). 

The delicate arch of his nose just slightly crooked from that time when he’d oh so heroically “saved” her from the grips of a rather frisky Ravenclaw resulting in a harsh elbow to the face from said offender. And ultimately ending up with her attempting to mend the bone - somewhat successfully and him striding off with a wink and a “Wotcher cuz” that had left her rather infuriated and simultaneously confused. And perhaps a bit flustered. (Because he’d called her cousin. And because even despite the slightly skewed facial structure that now resided in the middle of his face he still looked as attractive as ever.)

And finally those godforsaken beat up shoes that he wore all the time. Some muggle brand that he had come across while going through his Uncle Sirius’ old magazines. Convose? Convorse? Converse. That was the one. What must have been bright red once, but were now a shade somewhere between maroon and pink, converse shoes encased his large feet. (Were other parts of him large too?) Honestly those shoes had seen better days. However while on most others they may have looked terrible with their worn state and marker pen scribbled words, on Teddy Lupin they looked just right. (She wanted those shoes lying on the floor at the foot of her bed along with every other article of clothing he owned. With him on the bed. Preferably unclothed.)

She had spent years around him. Years and years, and yet his ability to subconsciously take her breath away had never seemed to cease.

And neither had his ability to infuriate her to the most astounding limits.

Just like this particular instance.

He was still staring at her. Metallic grey burning into electric blue. Daring her to take a sip of the vile amber liquid in the bottle beside her. Because that was what he did. He teased and taunted and winked and flirted all the while calling her cousin even though they both knew that they had no biological connection whatsoever. (Thank Merlin for that)

That infuriating Teddy Lupin. (She wanted to kiss him)

What an utter prat. (But still incredibly gorgeous)

She could swear he teased her just to get her to hate him.

(But she kind-of-maybe loved him instead?)

**Author's Note:**

> (cue aggressive winking) ;))))  
> [hmu](http://iishitpostcentral.tumblr.com/)


End file.
